The Outcast Novice
by 0nyx
Summary: Alrek's life won't be the same again since being accepted into the Guild! As tragic secrets start to surface, can Alrek keep his own hidden, and pass his exams before Regin makes his life a living hell?


-Hi, this is my first story. All criticism is welcomed so I can improve my writing and continue more chapters for this Fanfic!-

-This is set (obviously) during book 2 of the Black Magician Series, with my character -Alrek- included. This will be written from his point of view.-

**Prologue**

"Day112

How can I start to explain the bad luck that's been pressed upon me? Well, I guess I can only blame the flaming horse for kicking me out of the saddle, shattering practically all of the bones in my arm. After that the day seemed to rush by. Father rushed me to the Magician's Guild to get Healed, and my life was turned upside down. They saw magical potential in me. A lot of potential. Father was pleased, but I'm not. If only he knew my secret, why I'm always so distant, he would send me to a country estate while my brothers manage trade here. Maybe there's still time to run away. I'll have to do mind exercises and I'm sure they'll know I'm a-"

The door suddenly opened, Lord Therril entering as he flourished a particularly expensive cloak. "Alrek, are you not ready yet?" he asked, a frown creasing his brow.

Alrek quickly shuffled his diary into a small box and stood, blushing slightly. "Um, yes, Father."

Therril rolled his eyes, his gesture taking in Alrek's dark grey coat, thin black trousers, and ankle high boots. The clothes were practical for someone tending to race horses all day, but not fit enough to be presented at the Guild. Sighing, Therril nodded and gestured Alrek out of the room, picking up his son's box on the way out.

Alrek tried to look unbothered when his father picked up the box, thinking about his reaction if he knew the secrets in the book. Hurrying his stride, he allowed a servant to open the carriage door and sat inside, staring at the open window. At times like this, Alrek couldn't stop thinking of his mother before she was murdered. Her biggest wish was for Alrek to become a magician. Yes, he'd go along with this after all. He would become a magician for his mother.

Therril exhaled deeply as he sat in the carriage, knocking on the roof to signal the driver. "You sure you got everything you need in this box?"

"Hm."

Therril sighed. "Your mother would be so proud of you. Make sure to keep out of trouble, don't let anyone give you a rough time, and… stay away from the slum girl."

Alrek turned his head sharply, staring at his father in disbelief. _How can he be so single-minded? If he disapproves of someone being born into poverty, what would he think of someone like me?_

"Ah, here we are," Therril chuckled, rubbing his hands eagerly.

The pair left the carriage, servants following with small boxes of luggage. Therril joined the other Lords, some wearing ludicrously flamboyant clothing which made them look more like performers than dignified Nobles.

Alrek coughed, fiddling with his long fringe. He produced a small mirror from his shoulder bag and gazed into his reflection, self-conscious of how dirty he looked compared to the other Novices. His hair was trimmed all over, except for the left side which hung down neatly to cover his left eye, down to his chin. His eyes were a fierce sapphire blue, and his skin slightly paler than other Kyralians.

"Hai."

Alrek stiffened, nervously peering over his shoulder. It was the slu- Sonea. "Oh, hey," he said shyly, his lips lifting into a small smile. "Are you ready for this?" he asked lamely.

Sonea's shoulders slumped, as if she was letting out a tension that had been gathering. "Slightly anxious, but Rothen has been tutoring me and made me practice the oaths over and over again," she smiled, "So what's your name?"

"Alrek."

"Ah. I was almost expecting you to tell me your house, titles, blah blah blah," Sonea laughed, looking off into a crowd of other Novices.

"I'm not like those," Alrek replied, following her gaze. Regin. Alrek stared open-jawed at his old nemesis, making eye-contact for a brief second before Regin looked to Sonea. His grin was more blood-thirsty than ever before. "He's a snob, Sonea. It's best not to mix with his type."

"I expected at least someone to be like that. Oh, Rothen is signalling for me. Good luck!" And with that, she was off.

Alrek smiled to himself, walking over to his father.

"I don't see how he can disgrace his father like that… talking to the slum girl!"

Alrek's entire body stiffened, his eyes darting towards the source of the voice. He did not recognise the women, but they gave him disapproving frowns. _Why must we be so… conservative? _he wondered. Sometimes he thought he had more Elyne blood than Kyralian. Alrek jumped slightly as a hand clasped his shoulder.

"You ready? Good! Make us all proud, son!"

Everyone walked single-file into the Guild Hall. Alrek's path to being a magician had begun.


End file.
